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Posted (edited)

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In dark and bitter cold

Each one possessed a stick of wood

Or so the story’s told

 

Their dying fire in need of logs

The first woman held hers back.

For of the faces around the flame

She noticed one was black

 

The second man looking all about

Saw no one of his church

And couldn’t bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch

 

The rich man sat and thought

Of all the wealth he had in store

Why should his stick be used to warm

The lazy, shiftless poor?

 

The poor man sat in tattered clothes

He gave his coat a hitch

No way would he let his stick be used

By the greedy selfish rich

 

The black man bitter and full of rage

Held his oak branch tight

For all he saw in his stick of wood

Was a chance to spite the white

 

The last man of this forlorn group

Did nothing except for gain

Giving only to those who gave

Was how he played the game

 

The branches held in fate’s cruel hands

Was proof of human sin

They didn’t die from the cold without

They died from THE COLD WITHIN.

Edited by Sturm Rooster
Posted

Six humans trapped by happenstance

In dark and bitter cold

Each one possessed a stick of wood

Or so the story's told

 

Their dying fire in need of logs

The first woman held hers back.

For of the faces around the flame

She noticed one was black

 

The second man looking all about

Saw no one of his church

And couldn't bring himself to give

The fire his stick of birch

 

The rich man sat and thought

Of all the wealth he had in store

Why should his stick be used to warm

The lazy, shiftless poor?

 

The poor man sat in tattered clothes

He gave his coat a hitch

No way would he let his stick be used

By the greedy selfish rich

 

The black man bitter and full of rage

Held his oak branch tight

For all he saw in his stick of wood

Was a chance to spite the white

 

The last man of this forlorn group

Did nothing except for gain

Giving only to those who gave

Was how he played the game

 

The branches held in fate's cruel hands

Was proof of human sin

They didn't die from the cold without

They died from THE COLD WITHIN.

 

Very cool thanks so much.. Gosh I learn so much on here.. I have never seen that one before and it was a wonderful lesson.. thanks..

Posted

So you take your stick, beat the others with it until they put thiers on the fire. Then, you throw yours in also.

 

AND THEY ALL LIVED TOGETHER HAPPILY EVER AFTER !! :blink:

LOL I dont think that was the point, But it would work !

Posted

Who's the author of that?

Posted (edited)

Who's the author of that?

James Patrick Kinney It is a beautiful Poem inst it

Edited by Sturm Rooster
Posted

James Patrick Kinney It is a beautiful Poem inst it

 

Thanks. Couldn't remember his name.

Posted

Strum, you should send that to Congress.

 

Very good. Merry Christmas, Pard

Amen Pard !

Merry Christmas to all .

Posted

Last time around :P

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